Gentle sunrises
Slowly awakening my soul
One last toss & turn
My dream meter once again full
Gentle Sunrises
Month: November 2021
A Picture Postcard Perfect Appearance
A picture postcard perfect appearance
Modest, yet smoldering beauty beneath
A festive spirit expounding – Winter’s tales
Out singing carols & hanging a wreath
But once you come home for the day
Put on those hooker lips & pirate boots
Time to release your animalistic desire
Tired of being demure & a little too cute
But The Simple Fact Is Grace Is Unearned
But the simple fact is grace is unearned
We live our lives as if we’re undeterred
Ignorant to sin & repercussions thereafter
Yet hoping for the winds to remain unstirred
Truth & love are bound to our dreams
The inconvenient reality of the harsh pain of day
Trudging through our irksome tasks
Bright light stuns us into a stuttering delay
Fall to your knees in complete repentance
Submit your soul to the warmth of His sunshine
Release the burden of mortal expectation
Forever embrace the perfect love of the Divine
When My Time Is Finished
When my time is finished
You may say whatever you want about me
That I never grew up
That I contain no redeeming qualities
My words were hollow & juvenile
My attempts at piracy weren’t any good
But one thing will never be said
That I didn’t love her the best I could
I’m Not Saying I Don’t Appreciate
I’m not saying I don’t appreciate
A lady of Paris, Milan & back again
A smartly dressed woman of the Times
Inspiration for me to re-dip my pen
I’m not saying I don’t cherish
A bold woman who’s a little bossy
Nudity as art upon tasteful scales
Teasing me through 8 x 10 glossies
I’m merely submitting a formal request
Publicly provide the proper image of classy
Though once their prying eyes are shielded
I’m going to need you to be gratuitous & sassy
Thanksgiving Mix-Up
Thanksgiving!
Flirting Like A Pilgrim
Speak Up, Stand Up; Announce To The World
Speak up, stand up; announce to the world
Spread the news of truth’s availability
Don’t be shy; we’re all in this together
Easy now, no need to hate on my virility
I honestly distrust anything popular or sacred
Passing them by & allow them to hide
I have to figure it out 20 years later
Force-filtered through life & time & tide
Opposing magnetic poles claiming Orwell
Both deluding themselves he’s their saint
But he was human & all the related flaws
His divinity seems a little too quaint
We need people with a firm, decisive choice
No interest in your ineffectual, intellectual porn
There’s no time for pussyfooting around
We must find the truth & feed it to the bullhorn
Happy Thanksgiving!
But Our Dreams Drip
But our dreams drip
Memories frothing to the surface
Unknown to the exterior
Remnants of our innocence Miss
Complications of misinterpretations
Dwelling in this unfailing mess
Stepping gently away at this time of night
Always remember you in that short gingham dress
Transparent Dresses Hanging In The Mud Room
Transparent dresses hanging in the mud room
Saran-Wrapped for mild protection
Eyes closed to foreign tales
Tempered thoughts of stifled affection
Painted prose with regurgitated eyes
Our dreams left choking on the floor
Scribbling beliefs with thick gouges
Manufactured truth with cries of Nevermore
Redundant weight of classical heroes
Forcing us into bastardized Groupthink
Yet my mind still wanders to her opaque passion
Chasing her dragon with endless ink
Taking A Moment To Pause
Taking a moment to pause
Allowing all the colors & sounds
To penetrate my senses
I’m going to miss being around
Soon to return to the sea
Riding waves with crushing might
Darkness closing in on me
Holding fast to escape the night
*not really going back to sea. just remembering the feeling of writing this before the holidays a few years ago
I’m No Hero
I’m no hero
Just trying to make it through the night
Terrors & dreams haunting me
Still, daylight expects a man of might
Listening To Wollstonecraft On The Radio
Listening to Wollstonecraft on the radio
“Don’t turn that dial!”, that’s what the DJ said
Not tied to any system; I’m still analog
I’m dangerous; so the advertisers pled
Hereditary responsibility to the common good
Therefore I don’t believe what I’ve been taught
I see y’all got opinions, from your suburban thrones
& these school systems regurgitating corporate rot
Criminal malpractice leaves us with poor examples
But we’ve seen far worse on both sides of the aisle
Bribing the lowest common denominator for votes
Rewrite history, but perhaps that’s not in your files
I’ve been cast off, labeled a subversive heretic
But I’m easy – so I’m doing my best to unlearn
To unwind these falsehoods they tried to entrench
The slow burn; time to take candor for a turn
Rash choices based upon juvenile aesthetics
The understanding that we all might partake
Though one must know speaking the truth too loud
Turns into testimony & they might burn us all at the stake
I Do Not Deserve You
I do not deserve you
Just not a worthy guy
Though I’m loyal & I’m true
& full of love you might want to try
Liberation Granted By The Morning Alarm
Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue
Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn
The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell
Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake
Fresh Air
You’re a fresh of breath air
Please let me fix us another
For you make my heart smile
Yogi Berra
“Half the lies they tell about me aren’t true.”
― Yogi Berra
Waking Up To Deliberations
Waking up to deliberations
An itching need to create
Warming myself with coffee
Unfolding thoughts I contemplate
Your Silhouette’s Striking Stature
Seeing your silhouette’s striking stature
You were standing off all alone
A statuesque presence provoking
Lucky through our love I can atone
Dressed To Instantly Kill
Dressed to instantly kill
No use for a Wonderbra
The sass in your hips
You’re clearly bourgeois
Dancing beside the bar
Telling me some dirty jokes
A subtle, seductive attitude
Smiling between the sly tokes
The band is still playing
Accustomed to rooms so plush
Focusing on my quiet charm
Your attention makes me blush
I’m trying to keep up
But I’ve only been with local girls
You lead me by the hand
& soon only wearing those pearls
Telling Stories After Dark
Telling stories after dark
Occasionally with Tom Waits in the lead
Fantastical little allegories
Bringing a light to those souls in need
No need to whisper in the shadows
Luminous words to prepare the way
Removing barriers to our enlightenment
Witticisms fleshed out & on display
Short tales to get creative juices flowing
Harking back to dreams that we might meet
Subtle differences between the pauses
Allowing our imaginations to properly greet
Scenes from our own round table
Foreplay within our cheeky banter
Conjuring visions of a keen passion
Diluted memories at the bottom of our decanter
Bad behavior leads to a more examined life
Though through fiction we can live eternal
A little more sensitive than you want to believe
Yearning to be held by a beautiful dame so maternal
Out here with our hearts raised to the sky
Searching for better answers on the midnight shore
With the freedom to imagine wisdom laid bare
Parsed theories for when we sent them off to war
Subtle manipulation within our romantic esthetics
Unreliable narrators marching; our literary brigade
There’s no vernacular for hearts’ folly
Pushing forth our gentle notion love might persuade
In the end, dear friends, our parable is contrite
In this heinous world, we all have a simple choice
I lay myself to slumber, a fatigued sailor
Wishing for a lullaby coming from Nick Cave’s voice
Image by Eli Digital Creative from Pixabay
Still Sleeping On The Edge
Still sleeping on the edge
Your side is far too cold
The house feels empty
Without you here to hold
Never washed your lipstick
Off the wine glass at the table
I can’t lose everything I have
Missing you makes me unstable
I’ve Traveled The World
I’ve traveled the world
& I keep returning to the same notion
I’ve seen interesting places
But I never again want to sail the ocean
My simple truth is that I’m content
I’ve found a good life; that should be clear
The grass is never greener anywhere else
We’re on an amazing course; we shouldn’t veer
There are so many opportunities
I would never close any of those doors
I don’t ever want to let go of your hand
Now that I have & forevermore come ashore
Midnight’s A Fine Time To Take The Jacksonville Train
Midnight’s a fine time to take the Jacksonville train
Rolling double boxcars to decide our fate
Gotta get back to my lover’s bedside
‘cause women like that don’t hardly wait
Been dreaming of her since the days of steam
Finely dressed woman with incalculable sense
I’m lagging behind schedules & timetables
Hindered by a world of devastating pretense
Spellbound, in the terminal cloister, trying to keep track
Our destiny dwindling, chanced by the tumble of dice
Fearing snake eyes when we need eleven
For lightning isn’t going to strike us down twice
Separation has me feeling on the edge of sincerity
Bleary eyes blinked time & again for some sanity
I’m not emotionally set up for these tribulations
Fear of failing, yet no marks upon my frivolous vanity
Memories of forgotten moments in the text
Perhaps it’s time for me to remain fully alert
But I can’t ignore how my insides churn
The notions of the woman so beautifully pert
It’s risky to return my heart for ante
Somewhere she’s loosening her bustle
This venture is getting out of hand
When she’s applying her legendary hustle
Pulling into the station, I know my lot
A few hours late; enough for passion to be reclaimed
I’ve tried my best, but crapped out again
In my weakness, I become loved; that’s when the angels came
Image by Khusen Rustamov from Pixabay
She Takes Off Her Horn-Rimmed Glasses
She takes off her horn-rimmed glasses
She rubs her eyes, “what a mess”
I take her in my arms, whispering,
“It’s time to remove this dress”
I send her towards a waiting bath
Time to reconstitute our dreams
I love that woman something fierce
I smirk, planning the night’s schemes
Sitting Back; Waiting On The World
Sitting back; waiting on the world
Knowing her beauty’s utmost brilliance
Never been more in love with the girl
Together we’re tectonic resilience
Dancing In Her Pretty Lil’ Dress
Dancing in her pretty lil’ dress
I lifted her high in the air
That’s when I learned
She didn’t have on any underwear
I Want To Paint Our Love
I want to paint our love
Though which brush to use
Impossible to err
With you as my muse
Loosen The Screws
Loosen the screws
Scale down the intensity
You’re living too stressed
As is your propensity
Kick off your shoes
No purpose for those heels
Time for a life change
Soak in something you can feel
Walk a ways with me
Let the sunshine impede
My hand; avoid the tide
For this is all you need
Mornings Naturally Rise
Mornings naturally rise
Catching sunshine in my eyes
Distracted by the obvious glare
Misdirected like you really cared
Left feeling a bit obtuse
Never in pity, what’s the use
Taking a moment to feel low
Then return to what we all know
Be smarter, don’t get deceived again
Or merely rewrite it all with your pen
At this point, there are no rules
Ignore their taunts, the damn fools
Karma will get them in the end
52nd layer of hell is for fake friends
Smelling Like An Old Man
Smelling like an old man
But a man nonetheless
Reapplying the Old Spice
Sovereignty against the stress
Too many fragrant like chicks
No way for a dude to smell
Are you confused by nature
For I surely cannot tell
Captain Q 